


Trust Fall

by Saber_Wing



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fever, Fluff, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, I REGRET NOTHING, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Protective Steve Rogers, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic, Superhusbands (Marvel), Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony's a stubborn baby, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Whump, largely plotless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 07:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saber_Wing/pseuds/Saber_Wing
Summary: Tony took a step toward the elevator. All of a sudden, his worldview shifted, and he felt himself sliding sideways. His legs folded underneath him and he blinked dazedly at the floor, stunned.The floor, which was suddenly much closer than it had been.“Tony!”The fever Tony has been nursing finally catches up with him after a rough string of missions, and he all but collapses at Steve's feet. The super-soldier is there to look after him.





	Trust Fall

Tony stepped out of his armor as the rest of the Avengers dispersed, glad to be home after dealing with the world's latest string of catastrophes. That last skirmish had managed to dislodge his arc reactor at one point, long enough for him to legitimately worry about _breathing. _It all worked out well in the end, but man, was he tired.

On top of everything else, he was pretty sure he had the flu of a lifetime, and Tony was half-convinced he'd been dying before he even set foot outside. So, to say he was already dreaming longingly of his bed would have been an understatement. He took a step toward the elevator, looking to make that dream come true when suddenly, his worldview shifted, and he felt himself sliding sideways. His legs folded and he blinked dazedly at the floor, stunned.

The floor, which was suddenly much closer than it had been.

“Tony!” Steve crouched beside him, eyes wide with alarm. “What happened? You okay?”

“Fine, fine.” Tony waved a hand dismissively. He pushed himself up on shaky legs. “Might need a little nap. Cardiac arrest takes a lot out of a guy.”

“Oh, geez, Tony. I didn't even think, I'm so sorry. We need to get you to a doctor, come on.” Steve gripped his arm.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there, tiger.” Tony placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, flashing him his best showman smile. He felt like shit, truth be told. His whole body was hot and achy, and his everything hurt. But the less Steve knew about that, the better. “I'm fine, just lost my footing for a second.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, pursing his lips. “That phony grin of yours might work on the press, but don't think you can fool me with it, mister.”

Tony sputtered, indignant. “_Phony? _I resent that. My smiles are all one-hundred percent authentic.”

Steve rolled his eyes, though his face sobered quickly as he watched Tony. He kept one hand securely under his elbow, as if afraid he might keel over without the support. Geez, he didn't look _that_ bad, did he?

“Nobody actually thinks you're invincible. It's okay to admit when you're feeling bad.” Those baby-blue eyes of his drilled into Tony. Soft, compassionate. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

And with Captain Fucking America himself, looking at you like you'd hung the moon and deserved nothing less...well, how the hell _was _Tony supposed to respond to that? For a moment, he wanted to break—lean forward, rest his burning forehead on Steve's broad chest, and spill his guts.

_I have a four_ _-hundred-_ _degree fever. My head is filled with concrete, and I wish I was dead. Please put me out of my misery._

Tony squashed it down as ruthlessly as he could manage. He was swaying at this point, however, and Steve had to tighten his grip on his arm. Shit.

_Pull it together, Stark._

“I'm fine, Cap.”

"Are you sure? You look a little flushed." Steve frowned, pressing the back of his hand to Tony's forehead. 

“Stop! _God_, just-” The genius scowled, throwing Cap's hands off. “_-_ _drop it_, okay? I don't need your rough, tough, save the world routine, Mr. Hero. Go find another damsel in distress.”

Steve's face fell, taken aback by the outburst, and Tony immediately felt bad. He bit his lip. Damn it. His stupid insecurities weren't _Cap's _fault. It wasn't fair to take them out on him.

This semi-irrational fear of people seeing him vulnerable was an old hang-up of his. He knew it was problematic. And, much as he hated to admit it, he had no idea how to _fix _it. A few motivational speeches weren't going to change the deep-seated mistrust he had of...well. Everything.

Tony was a builder. He was a futurist. He came up with solutions to problems people didn't even know they had, before they had them. Thus, he should be able to _do_ something about this, but it was clear to him that he wasn't equipped to figure it out on his own.

Ugh. _Feelings._

Maybe he could look at it like he did R&D and do what he always did when he needed a second opinion; call in a consulting specialist.

Which meant he would have to ask his therapist, and boy, was he looking forward to _that _conversation.

Even considering all of that, though, he didn't think he was being entirely unreasonable here. Tony didn't need anyone thinking he couldn't take care of himself. He was an Avenger. This wasn't the first time he'd felt a little run down after a mission and it wouldn't be the last. Despite what Steve might say about being in touch with your body, or your feelings. Or some bullshit like that.

Steve worried his lip between his teeth. “I'm not trying to pressure you. I just...”

_Oh, God, no. Don't do that._ Kicking a golden retriever would have hurt less than that look on his face.

Tony sighed. He clapped Steve on the shoulder, hoping it would take out the sting. It _wasn't _his fault, and Tony didn't want him to think otherwise for a second.

“I know this is an old line, but it's not you, buddy. It's me.”

Steve regarded him with warm understanding, underlined by a palpable aura of concern, and somehow, that just made him feel worse about the whole thing.

Tony's shoulders slumped. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Look. I promise, there's nothing a doctor could tell me that I don't already know. Nobody knows the arc reactor like I do, and I'm sure the rest is just a cold, or...something. I just need to sleep it off.”

Steve gazed carefully into Tony's face, and he didn't seem to like what he saw. He frowned deeply. “At least let me help you to bed. If you cracked your head open on the way there, I'd never forgive myself.”

Tony bit his lip, but in the end, nodded. If it would shut him up...

He let himself be dragged along and mothered by Steve, just out of sorts enough to cave despite his misgivings. He slung an arm around Steve's shoulders amicably, trying to look a shade or two above ‘death warmed over’. Though if he leaned into his friend just a little too heavily, the good captain was wise enough not to comment.

It didn't help that he'd slept three hours in the past seventy-two, Tony thought, with a bit of bemusement. Sure, he was used to those long, wakeful stretches, but he wasn't getting any younger, and it _had_ been a long day. A bunch of stuff with the Skull's cabal happened on top of his almost heart-attack, and the fever he couldn't seem to shake. Also, a government building near the U.N. gained temporary sentience and sprouted wings, and at this point, he didn't even care why.

This had been a bitch of a day, even by Avenging standards. By the time they'd reached Tony's room, he was so tired, he couldn't even get his eyes to focus anymore. He just wanted to _sleep._

Steve eased him down on the bed. He helped Tony shift his legs up on the mattress, murmured something about making him comfortable, then marched into the adjacent bathroom, rummaging around in the cabinets. Tony dropped his head between his knees, overcome by the hot waves of dizziness crashing over him. Nausea churned in his gut, and he resisted it. Hard.

_Please don't throw up. Please don't throw up..._

He must have been out of it enough to lose time, because the very next instant, it seemed, Steve was already back. Tony blinked blearily up at him as he rested the back of his hand against his forehead again, clucking his tongue with displeasure.

“You _are_ feverish. I want you to take these and lie down, okay?”

Steve looked even _more _worried when all Tony did was mutter an affirmative, but he couldn’t muster up enough energy to care. Fuck it. He was too drained to fight him anymore. And, irrational hang-up or not, he wasn't entirely stupid. He realized on some level that he probably shouldn't be left alone like this.

Once he'd swallowed the pills, Tony let Steve ease him onto his stomach, head lolling as he face-planted into the pillows. He didn't even try to suppress the near-pornographic moan that escaped his lips when the super-soldier placed a cold cloth on the back of his neck.

_God, _that felt good.

Steve chuckled from somewhere above him.

“Fuck off,” Tony murmured, voice muffled.

“You kiss JARVIS with that mouth?” Steve tugged Tony's shoes off as the billionaire struggled out of his shirt. Once that insurmountable task was done, he flopped face-first into the mattress again, letting his friend pull the sheets up to the middle of his back.

“I'd be prepared to kiss you with it,” Tony quipped. Or, he meant to quip, at least. It came out just a bit too serious. Whoops. He was getting loose lipped in his delirium.

“Keep dreaming, Stark.” Something unreadable passed over his friend's face as he smiled, there and gone before Tony could identify it. “Go to sleep. I'll be back to check on you in a bit. We don't want that fever spiking.”

Tony rolled his eyes, grimacing when it sent a sharp pain lancing through his skull. “Thanks, mom.”

“Don't mention it.” There was amusement in Steve's voice as he replied, but Tony could sense the serious undertone. His friend seemed to understand what this meant to him. What it meant that he was allowing Steve to help him, when he felt so sick.

Tony never really had anybody to take care of him that he felt _completely _at ease with. Jarvis had always been there for him, of course. But there was a part of him that felt like an obligation growing up, justified or not.

Tony was self-aware enough now to examine his own psychosis, and to admit that Jarvis never would have seen it that way. The butler always said he loved Tony like a son, and he'd been a better father to him than Howard ever was. He even remembered being scolded for hiding illnesses as a child. Still, he'd felt guilty for taking up so much of his life.

With Steve, it wasn't like that. The man just had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world. That he'd do anything for you. No strings attached. It was a nice illusion, even if that was _all _it was. It made Tony feel safe. Cared for.

“Hey, Cap?” Tony ducked his head, grateful for the pillows that partially obscured his face. “Thanks. Really.”

Steve's reply was so gentle and tender, it made Tony's heart twist.

“Anytime, Shellhead.”

Tony was just shifting to get more comfortable when the cloth slipped from his neck and fell to the floor. And right then—that was just about the worst thing in the world. He wasn't proud of the sad little whine that slipped out, but he was _hot, _and he wanted the cold back. Right now.

Tony scowled, kicking the sheets off as he levered himself up. Evidently, his body had already grown attached to being sedentary, because the movement made his head spin. He blew a breath between his lips, grasping blindly toward the floor. He realized his mistake too late when his top-heavy torso tipped too far and made him lose his balance. It was sheer dumb luck that Steve had noticed his plight, and dove to save him from himself, like the damsel Tony claimed he _wasn't_.

“Whoa, careful!” His friend made it to his side in record time, catching Tony before he could brain himself on the bedframe, like an idiot. He eased him gently back down on the mattress, stooping to pick up the cloth. “Stay down. I've got it.”

...it was probably okay if Steve did it for him, right? Right.

Tony nodded sleepily; eyes fluttering shut. He let himself drift as the sound of running water greeted his ears, and Steve was back again before he'd even registered the passage of time. The other man sat on the edge of the bed and threaded his fingers through Tony's sweaty hair, stroking his temple with a thumb. Tony was just miserable enough to lean into his touch, groaning with discomfort. Maybe if he rammed his head into the bedpost hard enough, he'd die, and his everything would stop aching.

Something in Steve's expression softened as he gazed at Tony. He'd brought back a whole bowl of cold water this time, and he murmured to him softly as he worked, mopping the sweat from his brow before working his way slowly down the rest of Tony's body. His face, his arms. And God help him, it felt _so _good.

Some part of Tony knew he should be mortified. A part he promptly told to fuck off. He could feel the exhaustion bleeding out of him with every stroke of that heavenly cloth, and by the time Steve had lain it on the back of his neck again, Tony was so happy he could cry.

Steve straightened the sheets out for him again. He smiled, though Tony knew that little wrinkle between his eyebrows only appeared when he was worried about something. Or someone, in this case. “That a little better?”

He allowed himself a contended sigh, sinking deeper into the bedcovers. “Marry me.”

“I'll take that as a yes.” The super-soldier chuckled, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “Sleep now. I'll make sure you're taken care of, okay?”

He mumbled something that might have been a yes, but Steve's fingers felt so good, carding through his hair, that he lost whatever train of thought he'd had.

Maybe Tony should be resisting this still, but it was Steve, and he could trust him. And he felt so hot, so sick, and it was nice to have somebody do these things for him. The thought would probably be a humiliating one later, but that was a problem for Lucid Tony. Sick Tony was just fine right where he was.

Later, he would blame this on the fever, but he swore he felt a pair of lips brush against his forehead. “I've gotcha, Tony.”

Tony leaned into Steve's touch – let him soothe the ache away – and believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, my teeth actually hurt. That was so sweet. I think I have cavities. 
> 
> I never get tired of writing these two dorks.


End file.
